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As you and your companions stop to catch your breath, you turn and look behind. The citadel looms high above you, its bleak stone walls crumbling to the ground. It is enveloped by a strange mist, and the shadowy forms of the dead dance around it. Stone by stone they raze the prison to the ground. The shrieks and howls of the Shadakine echo beneath the starlit sky as they meet a grisly death at the hands of their past victims.
‘Was it you who called the dead?’ asks Tanith, her eyes wide. You nod, a chill running down the length of your spine.
‘A horrible death,’ she remarks coolly. ‘Shasarak would have approved.’ She seems unaware of the ironic nature of her statement as you hang your head in shame.
